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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719135">stand right beside you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theragingstorm/pseuds/theragingstorm'>theragingstorm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Short &amp; Sweet, Short One Shot, prompts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 11:28:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theragingstorm/pseuds/theragingstorm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Six short (familial) snippets.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain &amp; Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas &amp; Damian Wayne, Selina Kyle &amp; Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown &amp; Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown &amp; Tim Drake, Talia al Ghul &amp; Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prompt: “Well, you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not.”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just thought I'd repost the results of one-sentence prompts from Tumblr (clearbluewaters). And wish a quick and early happy Thanksgiving to my American readers!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Even after having just been pulled from the rubble, covered in dust, uniforms ripped and bloodied, they both managed to glare insolently up at him at the same time. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We are not<em> injured,</em>” Damian stressed, as though he were an idiot. Blinking rapidly. “And I certainly do not have a con -- <em>concussion.</em>”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Me neither,” Stephanie agreed, swaying on her feet. She exhaled sharply, pressing her hand to her forehead. “I’ve been in this game for as long as any of you, <em>and</em> my mom’s a <em>nurse,</em> B-man. I <em>do</em> know how to tell real cuts from super -- super --”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Superficial?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Superficial. Yeah, that’s it. Superficial ones.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dick folded his arms across his chest and sighed.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll still say it again. You two cannot go home and just ‘sleep this off.’ Whether you turn out not to have concussions or not, you really should have Alfred look at both of you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m <em>fine,</em>” they both snapped in unison. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Stop babying me, Grayson,” Damian sniffed. “I’ve been injured worse sparring with my grandfather.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” Steph chimed in, far too jovial, “and Black Mask’s basement makes even the worst fire look like a little marshmallow roast. Y’know, like what Girl Scouts have. <em>That’s</em> what the blaze that took down that -- that apartment building looks like, compared to that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Gritting his teeth, Dick opened his mouth to snap back at both of them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But he brought himself up short.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Their too-casual reminders of Ra’s, of Sionis, made him shiver beneath the heavy armor, made him swallow a little harder. They seemed so small and thin beneath their heavy shrouds of ripped capes, as Steph clutched her bleeding shoulder and Damian scuffed his boot along the asphalt. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He took a long breath. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When he spoke again, he forced his tone to a softer, less harsh timbre. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You two won’t fight very efficiently if you have anything physical lingering from tonight. And <em>I</em> won’t sleep well if that’s a possibility.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stephanie softened, just a little, the tightness of her shoulders easing. Damian still drew back, scoffing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s ridiculous. I am the pinnacle of achievement. I am never not efficient.” He paused as Steph audibly stifled a snicker at him. “I refuse to end patrol so early. It’s insulting.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dick drew back, smiling dryly. He kept his tone light. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not. Batgirl, take the passenger’s seat.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Brightening, Steph bounded towards the Batmobile while Damian instantly started to whine, perfectly reminiscent of his age, shuffling forward.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s not fair. <em>I’m</em> your partner, not that --”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m putting you in the back because I <em>trust</em> you not to fall asleep there.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh. Well.” The boy puffed up a bit, his sullenness falling away. “<em>That’s</em> fair, I suppose.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They climbed into their seats while Dick made to call Alfred, to call Babs, to let them know they were coming. Leaning against the window, Steph yawned, scrunching her nose. Damian struggled with his seatbelt buckle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Glancing at them, Dick resisted the urge to reach over, to touch their cheeks, to put his hands over their own. To him, they looked so much younger than they thought they were. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. prompt: “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Cassandra shifted uncomfortably under the sudden intensity of her gaze. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nothing,” she managed to mumble. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Barbara bit her lip in response, leaning forward across the table. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Cass, I’ve never known you to skip breakfast. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Across the street, a flash of purple joined the streaks of color that made up the dawn sky. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just not hungry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But Barbara followed her gaze. Turning in her chair, bracing one hand on her armrest, she glanced back over her shoulder at the figure vanishing into the horizon -- the figure that had snuck Cass back after patrol.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, Cassandra.” Barbara’s voice sounded and her body language echoed the area somewhere between exasperated and amused. “Did you and Stephanie go for pre-dawn waffles at the twenty-four-hour diner again?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cass felt her face heat up; she ducked her head towards the cooling plate of eggs. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Alright, fine. But next time, call ahead. I’d wanted to make brownies with these eggs.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The pink light of dawn filtered through the windows. Cass hid her sheepish smile behind the curve of her hand.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. prompt: “Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>He had <em>never</em> seen Damian so mad, and considering what the kid was like, <em>that</em> was saying something.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m apologizing for making you upset! Of course I mean it! Although...I have to say, I’m not entirely sure why you’re upset.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Damian had been stomping around in a huff all weekend, shutting doors in people’s faces, refusing offers to train together or go to the movies. The sun was going down; it would be time for patrol soon. But he hadn’t even changed into his Robin suit yet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Duke, for his part, was buried into the couch’s throw blanket, journal open on his lap, staring up at the kid expectantly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Damian growled through his teeth.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re ‘not sure’? Look around you!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Duke glanced to his side. The cat curled into his leg, the dogs on either side. Small, furry heads nestled into him, sleeping in the last of the afternoon sun; totally at peace.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He burst out laughing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Damian looked outraged. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Kid, oh my God. I haven’t been trying to steal your pets, I promise.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The tone of his voice didn’t just sound angry now, but plaintive too, genuinely upset. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They follow you around everywhere now. Pennyworth has been sleeping in your bed. What are you doing? Have you been giving them extra food? Why do they like you best?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Damian, you’re on patrol all night, when Alfred’s awake.” Alfred purred deep in his throat, the tip of his tail twitching. “And now you’re at school during the day when the dogs are up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Damian swallowed hard.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why is that relevant?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, kid. They latched onto me because they miss you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He blinked rapidly, stepping from the couch. An odd, open look had blossomed across his face. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I...hadn’t intended to be gone so often.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Duke stifled a soft chuckle. Dick was right; he really was a good kid.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He set down his journal. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There’s plenty of room next to Ace here. Want to watch a movie before you go out? I’ll make popcorn.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Damian’s face visibly lit up, just for a moment. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then he drew back, his scowl becoming more of his usual sort of scowl.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m Robin, I don’t eat popcorn.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When he sat down, Ace nuzzled his hand, licking his fingers. Damian ran his hand over the dog’s head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure you don’t, kid.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. prompt: “I just need ten minutes.”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Dick glanced back over his shoulder just after the words left her mouth. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay, but they’re pretty hungry already. I think Tim’s thirty seconds away from trying to eat the napkins.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Barbara huffed, blowing her hair out of her eyes. The oven door clacked shut, cutting off the curls of aromatic steam. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, that's Bruce’s fault for buying a twenty-five-pound turkey. The thing’s been cooking <em>all day</em>, and it’s half an hour past when we said we’d eat. Damn enormous...I know there are a lot of us, but would it have been so hard to fill up on the sweet potatoes and stuffing instead?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey.” Dick raised his hands in surrender, eyes crinkled. “We wanted this, remember?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She took a deep breath, drawing her hands through her hair.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah. Yeah we did.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She braced her hands on her pushrims and rolled over to him, gently nudging his side before she took the apron off. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Remind me again why we wanted this?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, because...” Dick bent, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind. “They’re our families?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mm, do better.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We love them?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, <em>usually</em>, yes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They both laughed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And it’d be pretty hard to tell them over the coms, or via email, or --”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, I’m pretty sure if we gave our fathers the news over the phone, they’d never forgive us.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sighed contentedly, then kissed her cheek, nuzzling into her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I like having the news to tell them, though.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know you do.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A few minutes passed in quiet. The kitchen air perfumed with spices and roasting meat, heady with steam. His presence at her side, warming her further. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then the timer went off, and she pulled away, just long enough to roll to the oven. Their families awaited. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. prompt: “I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that. But what you’re doing isn’t fair.”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Tim withdrew, scoffing. Then wincing and cupping his broken nose through the tissues Barbara had lent him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How is it unfair?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know the rules we laid out as well as I do!” Steph gesticulated violently with the gun. Some of her fair hair had escaped her helmet -- and was splattered with pink. “And you’re cheating.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Am not.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Cheating, filthy dirty cheater --” Her voice was lilting. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Hey,</em>” he protested. But despite himself he stifled a laugh; her eyes sparked beneath the helmet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tim, like the rules of love, the rules of paintball are simple: you. <em>Cannot.</em>Have <em>both</em> Babs <em>and</em> Cass on the <em>same team!</em> That’s just straight out unfair for the rest of the human population, let alone the opposing team.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tim let go of his nose to glance back out at the rest of the paintball field. Poor Jason; he appeared to be getting both barrels to the chest right now. Even for such a big guy, such an onslaught of cheerful yellow and green had to be a lot. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Eh, Jason deserved to be taken down a peg.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He usually does, that’s not the point.” She wagged a finger at him with exaggerated drama, making him stifle more laughter. “He’s still my teammate. I fought tooth and nail to be a part of this family, and that includes being loyal to them during paintball matches.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh.” His tone had become softer, he realized. “Oh, okay, I get it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paintball guns lowering, Tim and Steph both sat down. They glanced over to watch Damian ruthlessly taking aim at Dick, at Duke running in to save him. At Cass darting away in triumph. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That being said, Jason looks good in yellow and green, don’t you think?” Steph’s voice sounded lighter again. Tim chuckled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh yeah, definitely.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When they took aim again, he glanced down the barrel of the gun through the tissues of his nose; all he could see was color. All he could hear was Stephanie’s laughter, joyful once more. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. prompt: “Quit stalling. Where’s your father?”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Jason shrugged blithely, moving out of the foyer to finally allow the two women inside. He meandered to the living room, book still in hand, both of them hot on his heels.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know? He just left.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Talia put her hands on her hips, staring up at him imperiously. Selina just raised an arched black eyebrow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Seriously. Something about a string of murders? Or maybe a murder-suicide? I don’t know, I usually stop listening to him after ‘Jason, listen to me.’”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Both women just sat down on the loveseat without another word. Selina languidly tucked her high-heeled foot behind her leg; her short hair stuck up in tufts, and stolen diamonds glittered at her neck. Talia folded her arms across the front of her silk blouse, shaking back her glossy locks, staring out in what Jason had once, as a teenager, dubbed her <em>“I want to speak to your manager”</em> look. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smirked affectionately. Then marked his spot, before setting down his book on the coffee table. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jason moved into the kitchen, past Alfred’s usual spot, and turned on the espresso maker. The air was soon rich with the smell of brewing coffee; he returned with the little white cups in hand, making both of them start in surprise.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you,” Talia said to him, formal as always, but with a hint of warmth beneath. “This is adequate.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Selina cleared her throat before she spoke.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, if she won’t say it, then I will: our <em>darling</em> Bruce has refused to give out the date of Damian’s next PTA meeting.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Talia flushed slightly. Jason stared for almost a solid minute before he started laughing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let me get this straight. Bruce doesn’t want either of the two of you two go to Damian’s damn PTA meeting --”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Because he’s ashamed,” Talia muttered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Because he’s<em> jealous,</em>” Selina corrected with laughing eyes. “He knows we’re better. That we’ll show him up, the poor old man.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jason laughed even louder, bright and rough. He only stopped to beam at the two women, just as they looked at him. The women he’d known for so long now, coffee cups still in their grasps.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not only will I give you the date, time, and place, I will give you the names of people there to antagonize. People Damian hates, though he’s not really able to say so at school, the bastards.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You would do that for...Damian?” Selina teased him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, I like the kid. Now, do either of you have a pen and paper?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Two glittering hands were each placed on his shoulder as he started to write. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
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